Beautiful Losers
by Spicy-Vanilla
Summary: Spike is in L.A. the year Buffy is called as a Slayer, before she leaves for Sunnydale. One night, in the dark alleys of downtown L.A., the two meet and sparks fly. Currently a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, so this is my first Spike-Buffy fanfiction even though I have always been a big shipper for them. I think they juste work so well together. This is an idea i had and thought I would exploit. I don't know whether or not I will write more, if it is popular, if I haven't completely out-of-charactered (yes, I did just invent a silly verb :)!) the characters and such.**

**Please leave a review :) I love reviews. I'm a review junky. Seriously.**

**As I always say in my other fics, English is not my mother tongue though I speak it quite fluently. I do however sometimes make grammatical errors and syntaxical errors as I calc my syntax on French :) not too much but sometimes. If this is a big issue for you, don't hesitate to point out the problems and I'll fix 'em.**

**Now on to the dirty, Spike-Under Age Buffy show :)**

**P.S. I hope to GOD I got Spike's britishness right! **

There were some days Spike actually doubted his physical appeal. Rationally, he knew he hadn't always exactly been a ladies' man – because let's face it, in his human days, the ladies had preferred poofters with dramatically high hairlines of the likes of the great Poofter himself, Angelus – but the tables had turned with the dirty sixties and seventies, the glorious era when he'd gotten his hair bleached and had started wearing eyeliner. Not that he'd been particularly proud of sharing makeup bag space with Drusilla, but the punk look had given a whole new edge to his already rather edgy cheekbones and from then on, the ladies had always been attracted by the sinister charm of his slim yet muscular body, killer cheekbones and full lips.

Especially when he pouted.

The sixties had also given way for Spike to a great share of flower-people-drug-induced-hand-watching-hallucinations. High people were not very fun to hunt as they tended to bloody giggle – hullo, EVIL? - when he morphed into game face, but then again, they all had a particular flavour he'd loved. And fucking Drusilla whilst high on heavily-cocained-or-stoned-chic-blood had its perks. Like enhanced stamina – their longest run, or rut, really, had been eighteen hours straight, 87 orgasms and hickeys the size of fucking Texas.

Spike had had his fair share of women in the past century. Whilst there was something sacred between him and his Dark Princess, they had always been a rather… open couple. They'd had threesomes, foursomes, orgies, blood baths and many shared meals and through all this decadence and decay, Spike had mastered the finer art of oral sex, amongst other – rather numerous, varied and depraved - things. He _loved _giving head. Almost just as much as receiving it. Drusilla did have a bad tendency to bite him in surprising places…

Point was, Spike had no trouble finding willing women to populate his bed. They always came to him willingly, some even begging. Until he got bored and growled at them, full game face on. Then they tended to either faint, scream, weep or try to run away. He preferred when they did it all at the same time. Except for fainting. That was a bore. Limp unconscious victims were almost as boring as watching Drusilla try and slip blood in Miss Edith's tea.

Spike had had women. Spike had women. Spike would probably have a lot more women. Spike had even had a couple of particularly handsome men. Eternity could be… _lengthy_ if you didn't try everything at least once. But in the end, he always ended with women – or on them. Spike _loved_ women. Freud had told him in Vienna all those years ago he probably had mommy-issues. Unresolved Oedipal-complex. Spike had stopped accompanying Drusilla in her therapy sessions from then on.

Women. Women. Spike loved them. Everything about them turned him on, from the round bone of their wrists that he loved to caress before biting into the tender skin underneath, to the fine swan-like curve of their necks. And breasts. He bloody loved breasts. Arses too. A fine nice rump was the second best thing in bed. After a hot pair of legs. Yes, Spike loved women, and they loved him back.

Yet, there were some days he doubted he held any sort of attraction on women. Most of these days were spent cursing Drusilla's name as she forgot all about him in the arms – claws, wings, horns, et cae-_bloody fucking_-tera – of some bumpy creature of the night she'd fancy for a good shag. Why she could prefer ugly deformed creatures to his silky skin and taunt muscles eluded him completely. And that made him doubt his physical charm a whole lot.

Those nights, he spent roaming the town, wherever they were when she got those nasty cravings, hunting for something to sink his teeth – and/or cock – in. Something juicy, something sunny. California had had that effect so far on him. It had made him develop a new appreciation of the blondes. All sorts of blondes in California. Most were way too tanned to be naturals – and anyways, brunettes always smelled muskier to him, like his dark Drusilla, the freaking cunt who was currently having her quim pounded by some disgusting Chaos slimy bastard. But the real blondes, the ones he fancied, they were the yummiest treat. The California girls tasted of sunshine. And if Drusilla was going to spend the better time of their stay in L.A. grinding her bony – totally biteable - arse against that Chaos demon's antlers, well Spike was going to have a bloody good time drowning his sorrow in the blood and juices of intoxicated co-eds.

The best place to look for those late-night snacks were the darker alleys of L.A. where the rave crowds usually hung out for a smoke between two sweaty dances. The back alleys smelled musky from all the overheated skin exposed in the raves. The smell was intoxicating to a hungry vamp and Spike prowled the alleys on the hunt, slightly drunk from the three bottles of Jack Daniels he'd downed when he'd found Drusilla in the arms or antlers of that slimy thing. In _their_ bed.

He could almost taste it on his tongue, the mix of cheap beer, the salty tang of sweat, the throbbing of the coppery blood pumping away in the oversexed, overheated bodies that currently lined the dirty doors of underground clubs, cigarettes in their mouths or hands. Even though Spike loved to smoke – and that is exactly what he was doing whilst prowling like a big feline – he didn't enjoy drinking from smokers as their blood always tasted chalky. He preferred slightly intoxicated girls with sweet sugary blood.

Everything and everyone smelled of sex here. Everyone except those two girls he'd just spotted walking out of a club. They were both way too young to be out at night so late. Underage _kids_ really. They couldn't be any older than fifteen or sixteen. _Boo-bloody-hoo_, Spike thought, licking his canines at the thought of burying his fangs into their creamy little thighs. The tallest was a brunette with a heart-shaped face, her little thump-thump beating fast as she pulled her friend after her towards a darker alley. She smelled somewhat fresher than most of the crowd, but it was the blonde behind her that caused Spike to almost purr in satisfaction. She smelled absolutely decadent. Honey, ambrosia, Georgian peaches on a rainy afternoon, fresh lemonade with raw sugar in it, fresh dew on moss, daffodils.

A virgin. A blond, _ripe_, golden virgin.

She looked rather small and fragile from how far he stood. Small bones, the most delicate collarbones he'd seen in years in fact, tiny limbs on a tiny body. A woman's body though, that much he could tell. Unlike her taller friend who looked like she stuffed her bra to get some goods to flaunt, the petite blonde wasn't even wearing one. She was wearing some kind of gravity-defying silky top that bared her back and left very little to the imagination. Just some stringy ropes kept the thing in place and Spike couldn't wait to rip them to bare the golden mounds he currently wanted to bite.

As he followed them at a distance, Spike realized he wasn't the only one who'd noticed how absolutely yummy the two little meals on legs looked. Further down the dark alley the two girls were walking in, another vamp stood, behind the dumpsters, ready to pounce.

Patience had never been one of Spike's winning qualities. Nor was sharing. Especially his meals. Especially a virginal blonde whose faint perfume was currently causing most of his blood to flow in the direction of his crotch. That other vamp was going to have to hit the road, either figuratively or literally. Sliding into the shadow, Spike reached the other vamp before the girls could even get at hunting distance. How stupid fledglings were always amazed him. They were wet behind the ears and had no sense of style or survival. The fact this one had not even sensed Spike approach him served as proof he didn't deserve to see another night. Grabbing him at the throat, Spike growled menacingly.

'Not tonight, mate.' And then he ripped his head off in a swift move. Turning around, Spike growled in frustration. The girls, probably following those instincts humans usually stupidly ignored, were already headed back towards the club to dance some more, away from the dangers of a dark alley.

'You sure you don't want any? I promise it's safe.' The brunette chimed. Drugs. That was why she'd left the safety of the crowd with the blonde.

Spike heard her voice for the first time, keeping to the shadows a few meters behind them. A chirpy, slightly nasal voice. One that could scream in passion or murmur languidly in a man's ear. He purred.

'No, Amanda. I told you I don't do that shit.' The blonde said. So the brunette was Amanda. Boring name, Spike thought, rolling his eyes as he lit himself a cigarette. The two girls had reached the light of the back alley, it's golden hue tinting their sweat covered skin. Spike's nostrils flared. _She_ smelled _decadent_.

'You're such a tight ass sometimes, Buffy.' Amanda said, holding the door of the trashy club opened for her friend.

Buffy. What a ridiculous name. No more ridicule than his, Spike thought.

_Spike and Buffy. Buffy. Fluffly, golden Buffy. Spike and Buffy, Buffy and Spike, Buffy on Spike, trashing about, lips parted on a cry of pleasure or pain. Buffy naked, writhing against him in the dark of an alley._ Buffy _naked_. Spike growled loudly, causing a few smokers to glance at him through glassy eyes. Spike frowned at them and tried to refocus.

_Hunting_.

Once she was his he could do as he wished with her but now, what mattered was getting her alone. With him. In the dark. Preferably naked.

The hunt. He was the predator, she was the bloody prey, he reminded himself.

Following them in the building, Spike's senses were overwhelmed by the powerful smell of hundreds of human bodies grinding and bumping against each other in the dark, sweat mixed with sweat, saliva with saliva, sweat with saliva, beer with sweat. Hands groped and mouths seeked. And in the middle of it all, _her_.

Her exquisite golden mane bounced wildly on her shoulders, baring them in beat to the pulsing rhythm of the music.

Goldilocks, that's what she made him think of.

The stroboscopic lights gave him flashes of her in different colours, her hair always a beacon of light, drawing him to her like he was a moth and her the flame. She was the polar opposite of his Dark Princess with her tall slender frame, dark hair and haunting eyes. As the girl turned around he noticed her eyes for the first time. Two pools of ocean green where he wanted to drown.

Her eyes locked on him and time seemed to stop. He knew he must have stood out against the crowd, his platinum hair almost white in the mind-fucking lights. Her gaze widened as he approached her, pushing through the bodies to get to her. And then, she turned away from him, giving him one sassy yet inquisitive look over her small shoulder. Her small, bare, golden shoulder. Was it normal he suddenly felt more like rubbing himself all over her? He wanted to make a human blanket out of her heat which was radiating in waves off her delectable skin. She would make a terrific vampire, he suddenly thought, imagining her, Dru and him, tangled in bed, naked, writhing in passionate embraces, scratching and clawing at each other like animals. Dru and the girl kissing. That would be a sight for sore eyes. Spike closed his eyes in delight for a few seconds before refocusing on his blond little nymphet. _His_. He was already possessive of the girl.

Prowling. Hunting. Hunting was the most sensual act for a vampire. That and sex. Both usually _came_ together – Spike chuckled internally at his bad word game. His cock was hard as a rock, watching her narrow hips swivel in beat. A pair of hands appeared on them, girl hands. The brunette had noticed him and wanted to give him a show.

He'd never been a man to shy away from girl on girl action. Instead, he took a step closer to the blonde. She lifted her gaze up to his and her lips parted slightly.

Buffy gasped as Amanda spun her around, grinding her bony hips against hers. Amanda when high, was always a bit wild. Wild enough that the two of them had made out on quite a few occasions, discovering and learning so that neither would be a debutante the day they actually met guys who weren't total jerks like the jocks at Hemery High. Grinding her hips right back on Amanda's, Buffy felt a smile tease her lips. She didn't care much about anything at all. The few beers she'd had dizzied her enough that she didn't really mind if Amanda wanted to strip naked or dance on a bar. Hell she'd probably join.

All she cared about right now was following the pulsing beat and gazing some more at the hot man whom she'd spotted outside earlier. He was not extremely tall for a man but he was drop-dead gorgeous with a slight Billy Idol-punk rock look that made her knees wobbly. She'd always had a thing for bad boys. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she noticed how close he now was. Close enough to touch. And he was looking at her as if he was going to devour her.

Which wasn't so far from the truth, really.

Spike noticed her heartbeat speeding up and a wave of feminine arousal hit him as he got closer and closer. Over Buffy's shoulder, Amanda was grinning absently at him, lost in the fog of whatever drug she'd taken.

'Hello there.' The brunette mouthed at him. Spike ignored her and continued staring into Buffy's eyes.

'I think you should introduce yourself.' Amanda 'whispered' loudly in Buffy's ear, shaking her out of the trance Spike had apparently put her in. He shook himself out of it as well as he gazed at Buffy's throat where he wanted to bury his fangs.

'I'm… I'm Buffy,' She said, loud enough for him to hear over the music. If he'd been human. But things being what they were – he being dead and all – she could have murmured and he'd have heard her anyways, his senses so keenly directed at her.

'You're _delicious_, pet.' Spike replied, smirking that cocky grin – tongue curled behind his teeth - that caused women to cream their knickers. Apparently, Buffy was no exception to the rule and he almost grabbed her right here and there to fuck her senseless or eat her or both.

'Houuu! I think he's hot for you, Buff.' Amanda snickered in her ear, pushing her forward. The unexpected momentum caused Buffy to fall on him, her breasts flat against his chest, her hands on his biceps, trying to steady herself on her suddenly wobbly legs.

'Dance with me.' He said, bending down so his mouth was almost pressed against her ear. He felt a shiver go through her and her nipples hardened against the strong planes of his chest.

Turning her around, Spike ground his hips and hard length into the soft curve of her back. On instinct, Buffy lifted her arms and wrapped her hands around his neck and looking up at him. Her fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck and she tangled his carefully slicked back curls in the most erotic nail-raking of his undead existence. She could feel his arousal and purposely ground her ass in it, causing him to moan. Wrapping his hands possessively on her hips, he brushed his thumbs under her silky top, caressing the burning taunt skin of her stomach. She moaned softly and smiled up at him.

By now, Buffy felt as if she was loosing her grasp on reality. He was too good to be true. Too handsome. Too…

'You're very pretty.' She breathed.

'_Pretty_?' He replied, stunned. Pretty? Him, _pretty_? What did the girl have for brains? He was not pretty. He was… manly, virile, dangerous, edgy. Not bloody pretty. He was not some poncy nancy boy with daisies at his lapels, for god's sake!

'Handsome, is that better?' she quickly added, blushing wildly under his extremely well…manly scrutiny. Buffy was used to older men looking at her as an object of desire. She blamed it on her blond hair and youth. She'd never admit it but she loved to be _wanted_. Even though she acted quite sanctimonious when the school boys got a little too_ into_ her. And the man, the dark stranger's who's manliness was quite literally dry-humping her lower back, was hot and _hard_. And _dangerous_. She could tell that much. Dangerous and sexy as hell.

'Depends.' Spike replied, the hunter in him trashing against the mental cage he'd built to stop himself from attacking her now. It wouldn't do for him to drain her right in front of her friends. Nor would it work out well if he decided to fuck her senseless on the dirty club floor.

_Depends_.

'On what?' Buffy asked innocently, licking her lips nervously. He watched the pink tongue dart out and felt this irrepressible urge to lick it, bite it. Swallow her whole. That puckered and glossed little mouth of hers made her think of this other pair of lips she had between her thighs, another pair of lips he wanted to lick and tongue and nibble on. _Would her cum taste as good or better than her blood? _He wondered. Had the girl ever even had an orgasm? He suddenly wanted very much to be the first to give her a toe-curling moment of bliss. _Since when had he become sentimental about his food and fucks?_

'On whether you let me kiss you or not.' Spike said, spinning her around so she was now facing him once more. Slipping his knee between her thighs, he pulled her towards him, grinding the rough material of his jeans against the warm skin he found there. She moaned, loud enough so that Amanda, who was still dancing like a little freak with some unknown college boy who looked like he was about to come in his pants trousers, turned and stared at Buffy.

'Kiss him, you stupid cow!' Amanda whined, giggling as the college boy groped her ass vulgarity.

'But…' Buffy started to say.

'See' the brunette giggled, addressing Spike this time, 'My friend Buffy's never been kissed…' At that, the blonde rolled her eyes and sighed.

'What she means is she'd really like _you_ to kiss _her_. She has a thing for punk-rock Billy-Idol lookalikes.' Buffy supplied, smirking innocently before turning away from him to continue dancing heartily. Sliding her hands into her hair, she bared her neck and twirled passionately to the beat of the song.

Unable to stop himself, Spike, ignoring the brunette's boring attempts at getting his attention, slid his hands on Buffy's slender hips once more and pressed himself against her. He was so fucking hard it was almost painful. She smelled even better from up close and the fast beat of her heart pumping away in her chest was making him dizzy.

On a sudden impulse, Spike grabbed Buffy's hand and pulled her through the crowd, ignoring her attempts at shrugging his hand off. He pushed her under dark stairs away from inquisitive eyes and pressed her against a wall, caging her between his arms. Her back hit the stony wall behind her and mystery man invaded her personal space, his face a mere inch from hers. She looked up at him, bewildered, suddenly nervous, afraid.

He looked even more dashing from up close. His cheekbones were so sharp she feared for an instant they might cut her if he got closer. His eyes were the sexiest shade of blue, almost marine in this light. And his lips, perfection, _à la _Brad Pitt, rosy and pouty enough she wanted to chew on them. Her fear momentarily subsided. How could something so beautiful be evil? How could the face of a fallen angel belong to a serial killer or a rapist?

'You are one little tease, you know that?' Spike growled. _Growled_. As if he was some animal in heat and her, his wanton horny female. Which she kind of was, she realized as her breathing sped up and her lips parted of their own accord.

' I… I'm sorry.' She stuttered, her nipples forming hard peaks through the silky material of her top.

'Don't be. I like it.' He purred, his mouth watering. Alone with her in the dark, he could concentrate more on her smell, how good she seemed to taste. He could smell her arousal, wet and tangy and he could almost imagine her little tight quim quivering over his massive hard-on. Yes, she was definitely shag-material. Long hours of sweaty, acrobatic shagging. He felt a dirty kind of possessiveness and decided then and there that whatever happened, he'd be the first man to pry her thighs open, to lick her from top to bottom, to pound her on the ground until she cried out in delirious…

'What do you want?' she said, making her voice stronger, trying to hide the fact she was now equally terrified and aroused by him.

'You, _naked_.' He groaned, pressing his cheek against hers, causing Buffy to blush and whimper. Well, at least he was very honest about his intentions. Adolescent Buffy felt equal parts of shyness and pride at causing such a beautiful man to be so… blatantly aroused. She could feel the hard bump against his jeans and bit her lip nervously.

'Well you're straight to the point.' She finally gasped as his mouth latched on her throat, sucking at the tender skin. His mouth trailed dangerously from her collarbone to that sensitive spot she didn't even know she had, right underneath her ear, at the juncture between her jaw bone and her neck. She mewled softly, a kittenish sound that cause him to press himself more forcefully against her. His hands roamed on her body, one tangling itself in her hair, the other cupping her ass quite possessively through her skimpy little skirt.

'_Want you_.' He panted in her ear, his arse-obsessed hand sliding up her bare back to undo the first tiny ropes keeping her top closed on the two pieces of flesh he currently wanted to suckle on. At the sound of his voice, of the raw desire in it, the female part of Buffy reacted very strongly and she dug her fingers under his shirt, caressing his lower back. His skin was unbelievably cool. Her hands felt so bloody warm on his skin. He couldn't wait to feel her lips on his, her warm tongue invading his mouth. He trailed kisses up her jaw, towards her lips but she turned her head, gasping in pleasure as his thigh pressed against her increasingly wet mound through the material of her skirt. He could feed later, now all he wanted was to make her mewl and moan some more. Possibly his name, if he ever got around to telling it to her.

Buffy suddenly realized how quick things were escalating and where this was all headed and she panicked.

'Stop, stop.' She begged, her fists drumming on his chest to push him away. He pushed away and stared at her, his eyes stormy and angry now.

'Why.' He said, not even actually asking.

'I've…I've never done this before. I don't even know your name. And I'm not drunk enough to do this, I'm sorry.' She said, trying to slip away.

What happened next would spin around in Spike's mind for the weeks to come, if not months or years. The vision of her would burn in his brain forever perhaps.

She suddenly went ramrod straight, tremors overtaking her immediately after. Her thighs clenched on his knee as her hips undulated, pressing their pelvises together. She panted loudly, her hands clutching his biceps for support as she moaned loudly, as if in the throes of a particularly strong orgasm. Spike was mesmerized, enthralled by her wet lips forming the sexiest 'O', her eyes closing in delight. _Mesmerized_. So much so it took him a few seconds to realize just how strong her grip on his biceps had suddenly become. Unnaturally strong. Strong to the point it would leave bruises. And when she opened her eyes, he understood immediately, the raw facts causing his mind to blank momentarily. Her smell suddenly drowning him, her strength radiating off her slender frame, her golden skin tingling, her breath raw, ragged on his lips. His head dipped towards hers and he watched, utterly and completely fascinated by what he'd just witnessed.

Because in front of him, in the arms of one of the most lethal vampires, Buffy had just been called as the next Slayer.


	2. Cheerleader

**Hello people :) I was really happy with the response I got for Chapter 1 so here goes Chapter 2 :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Please, please review, it truly makes my day and provides me with more Muse-fuel to write the rest! I didn't take much time to actually proofread this so if there are major issues, please tell me! You guys rock and thank you so much for reading me! xoxoxooxoxox**

'Young lady, you are grounded! And my word is final!' Joyce Summers said, her eyebrows rising dramatically, arms across her chest, facing a fuming Buffy.

'But MOM!' Buffy whined, frowning like there was no tomorrow, her eyes darting from her mother's angry face to her dad's who, for once, was actually home at night. How convenient really for him to have been returning home at the same time she'd tried to sneak into her second story bedroom window using the fence that lined the house. Usually, coming back in required a lot more energy than it took sliding down from the window to sneak out.

Except this time, for some obscure reason Buffy still couldn't understand, she'd mustered so much strength that she'd actually crashed right through her window, breaking the wooden paneling that kept the whole thing together. One might have thought this would hurt like a bitch, but Buffy had simply been startled. Not nearly as much as her father who'd come roaring upstairs, barging into the room with an old baseball bat he'd taken from the hallway closet, thinking Buffy might be under some pervert's attack, innocently tucked in her bed.

At least that is where he _thought_ she would be at three o'clock in the morning. Instead, he'd found her dressed in one of those skimpy outfits he disapproved of, looking in her bedroom mirror at a slight cut she had on her elbow from _coming crashing in through the goddamned window_. To say he had overreacted might have been the understatement of the year as Joyce had had to calm him down so as to not wake the neighbours. That was until she'd seen the hole where the bedroom window used to be. For some reason, Buffy's excuse of having slipped on her laundry pile and having catch herself on the mysteriously fragile windowpane hadn't cut it with either of the parents who had spent the last twenty minutes picking up glass shards from the fluffy pink carpet and yelling at her. Buffy was sulking, still flabbergasted by how strong she now felt. Amanda had probably spiked her drink with some of the shit she liked to take when they went out late at night. Buffy was so going to kick her ass on Monday!

'And you will pay the repairs to your window out of your allowance money!' Hank said, finally managing to put his foot down in the conversation. His relationship with Joyce and Buffy was as tense as ever, with him never being home and working – if fucking his secretary could qualify as work – late hours at the office. Joyce and him we already set on going separate ways but just hadn't mustered the courage to discuss it with their daughter who was already quite a handful, especially of late.

'But it was an accident!' Buffy retorted, still quite stunned from the entire evening, especially by how that hot guy had reacted to her strange orgasm-like state on the dance floor.

'You conveniently slipped on laundry and crashed through your window? Do you seriously expect us to believe that, Buffy? I know you were sneaking out again and thank God you only got a cut on your elbow from sneaking back in _without_ opening the window first! What were you thinking, for the love of God?' Hank admonished, sighing.

He didn't very much enjoy punishing Buffy as she was his only daughter, but he understood that he had to do so once in a while to prevent her from doing stupid things such as sneaking out with that bad influence of a friend, Amanda. Neither him nor Joyce liked the girl much, or the influence she had on Buffy, who'd met her through cheerleading practices. And seeing as it was one of the rare things Hank and Joyce actually agreed on nowadays, they firmly intended to keep Buffy away from that awful girl.

'That's it, ground me _again!_ Why don't you keep taking your problems out on me huh? It's so easy being a teenager with the _worst parents ever_!' Buffy yelled, throwing her arms out, gesticulating. Her hand crashed into a unicorn lamp she'd had since she was a kid and the sheer force that now coursed through her caused the lamp to smash straight into the wall and break. Joyce and Hank stared, dumbfounded for a good two seconds. Buffy looked mortified and starred at her hand, panic in her eyes.

'And don't destroy the furniture simply because you're angry at us!' Hank yelled just as Joyce asked, suddenly worried:

'Did you take any drugs?' That was it. Buffy growled and stormed out of the room and into her adjacent bathroom to sulk. She locked the door and stared at herself in the mirror whilst her mother pounded on the door, imagining the worst. She needed to think. And she needed quiet. Not all that yelling and screaming and worrying her parents were currently serving her. Opening the door, Buffy slipped her face through and sighed.

'I'm alright, Mom, okay? I didn't take anything and I was just not thinking much. It won't happen again. Now can I please have some privacy?' she said, trying her best to sound calm and mature. Yeah, right.

Joyce's anger receded and she sighed.

'You know we only want what is best for you, Buffy. You don't need to act out like that for us to worry. We love you.'

'Yeah, funny way of showing it with him always gone and you guys fighting whenever he's actually home' Buffy muttered, giving her father an angry look.

'Buffy, your father and I fighting has nothing to do with you, surely you are smart enough to know that. You are the most precious thing to us and that is why we deem it important to raise you properly. And if you insist on having a self-destructing behaviour' Joyce said, eyeing the broken window meaningfully, 'we have to intervene. That Amanda is a bad influence on you and we would like if you'd stop associating with her…'

'No way.' Buffy retorted, opening her bathroom door fully to fume at her parents. 'You don't get to pick my friends. I won't sneak out again, I promise, but you can't decide whom I can be friends with or not.' Joyce rolled her eyes dramatically. 'I'd like you guys to treat me as an adult sometimes instead of always thinking I'm a baby and need to be protected from the world. It's not because my friends sometimes do stupid things that I can't think for myself!'

Joyce glanced at Hank and they shared a silent conversation before returning their attention on Buffy.

'You want to be treated like an adult? Fine. You will help pay for the repairs and you will do better in school. And you will not sneak out again. And you are grounded for the next two weeks because that is the only way you will understand.' Joyce replied.

'What about cheerleading?' Buffy asked, crossing her arms on her chest.

'What about it?' Hank asked, tying a knot in the garbage bag he'd filled with the remains of the window pane.

'There is a match this Tuesday. The girls are counting on me. I have to be there.' Buffy explained, hoping her parents wouldn't jeopardise her chances at becoming cheer captain simply to get a point across.

Joyce thought about it for a second, her eyes lingering on the trophies Buffy kept on her bedside table.

'You will be allowed to go, but it will be the only exception to the straight-home-from-school rule we will enforce in the next two weeks. That means no more movies – unless we accompany you of course – no more late nights at the coffee place…'

'Yeah, yeah, I get it.' Buffy sighed.

'And I will pick you up straight after the match. Is that clear?' Joyce said, frowning.

It was only almost an hour later, when she was tucked safely into the guestroom bed to sleep that Buffy had time to think back about what had happened at the club. Everything had gone so fast, it almost felt surreal.

She'd been having something akin to an orgasm in a stranger's arms and then he'd thrown her against the wall, taking a step back. Akin to, because she couldn't tell for sure, never having had an actual orgasm. But surely, it had felt good, crazy good. Melt your panties good. Good enough to curl her toes in her strappy sandals. And then she'd felt strong. Strong enough to hurt the man because of the death grip she had on his biceps. Lovely biceps. She'd taken a good look at his face: he was just as startled as her by what had just happened and he was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself. What had startled her most about his reaction was his eyes. They'd grown somewhat darker, and the look in them was predatory.

For some reason, at that instant, Buffy had forgotten all about how much she wanted him to be her first ever kiss and this had been replaced by a tingle at the nape of her neck. _Instincts_. _He was dangerous_. That much she'd known in that instant.

And taking advantage of how startled he'd looked, she'd followed those instincts and ran off, grabbing Amanda on her way out. Amanda had protested and they'd agreed to call each other the next day because she still wanted to dance, before going their separate ways, Amanda back on the dance floor and Buffy away, far away from _him_, in a taxi and back home.

Tossing and turning in the guest bed, Buffy tried to understand what had happened but it didn't make any sense. It couldn't. Because for some reason, at that instant when her eyes had met the hot stranger's, Buffy had known he wasn't human. He was something more. Something… dangerous. She had no idea how such a fantastic knowledge could have made its way in her head and she now blamed it on the booze and some shit Amanda had surely slipped in her drink to make her 'relax and unwind her uptight ass' as she often said. But damn had that man been hot. Sexy, gorgeous. Those cheekbones. And his lips on her skin had felt incredible. Had Buffy known a man's lips could be so much fun on her skin, she'd allowed Peter and Josh and all those others who'd asked her out to ravish her in the locker room. Pressing her thighs together under the sheets, Buffy tentatively slipped her hand down her warm stomach and at the junction of her legs, imagining it was the man's hand doing that. The man whose name she hadn't even thought to ask. Buffy closed her eyes and finally abandoned herself to sleep.

'Rough night?' Hank asked her the next morning as they sat, eating the exact same breakfast with the only difference that she preferred hot chocolate to his black coffee: two pieces of toast with peanut butter and jelly and a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk in it. Joyce had already left the house for her usual Sunday lunch visit at the gallery she co-owned in downtown L.A.

'I had nightmares. I kind of miss my bed.' Buffy simply shrugged. 'When are we going to patch up my window?'

'I was going to do it later. It will go even faster if you help.' Hank suggested.

'Why not, heh? It's not like I have anything better to do since I'm _grounded_.' Buffy said, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth. Hank sighed and turned his attention back to his newspaper.

'I can't believe you just left me there alone.' Amanda whined for the fiftieth time in that day. Buffy rolled her eyes, in the bathroom mirror, taking her lip gloss out of her pocket to apply some more.

'You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?' Buffy retorted.

'Yeah, I sure did. But I mean that dude was looking for you afterwards and he was totally hot! You could have totally had him, Buff. It's about time you lose it, God!' Amanda said, cocking a suggestive eyebrow at her friend.

'Yes, so what? I have to jump on the first guy that wants me because that's always what you do?' Buffy snapped.

'Excuse me?' Amanda said, flushing.

'You heard me. You keep on badgering me because I won't sleep with the whole football team and I'm getting sick of it. I'll have sex when I'm ready and I certainly won't take anymore of your bullshit about that.' With those words, Buffy stormed out of the bathroom, flinging her golden hair over her shoulder.

The truth was Amanda was becoming increasingly annoying, these last few weeks especially. She was always mocking Buffy for not yet having kissed a boy properly even though – and Amanda probably exaggerated a bit on this one – the entire football team wanted to date her.

Truth was Buffy didn't feel ready. She wanted to at least like the first boy she'd date. And most of the football jocks were brainless chickens who favoured the semblance of a brain they seemed to carry below their belt to their actual brain. Most of them. But not Pike. Pike was different. Pike was cute and smart and kind. And most of all, his sole purpose in life wasn't to get in Buffy's pants, making him the ideal future boyfriend. Pike was, as cliché as it might sound, the quarterback of the football team. Every time the cheerleaders gathered on Hemery High's football field to practice their routines, the footballers were there, Pike looking good as ever, ever the gentleman, always coming around to them to chat with the girls. Half the squad wanted in his pants and the other half had already been there, from what Buffy could gather, but in her adolescent eyes, he was still the Prince Charming.

There was a practice scheduled that night because of the big match the next evening and Buffy noticed she was missing her student I.D. when she tried to get key for the lockers. She looked through her purse four, five times, causing the woman in charge of the locker rooms to growl (yes, growl) at her. Buffy smiled sheepishly and explained the situation to the woman who rolled her eyes and gave Buffy a key for a locker with the solemn promise that if Buffy didn't return it after practice, she'd hunt her down for it. Buffy simply couldn't remember where she'd left her stupid I.D. card and resigned herself to getting a new one done.

The practice went well, even though Amanda was still pouting about the small fight they'd had in the bathrooms earlier. Jenna, the current cheer captain was being a bitch as of usual and picking on Buffy because Buffy was the best of the squad, but a simple smile from Pike always made everything rosier, adding a silver lining to all the clouds. Yes, Pike was definitely boyfriend material, Buffy thought dreamily.

The match was going full swing. The home team, the Hemery High Hawks were winning against the guest team, the Dietrich College Bears. Shaking her pompoms with enthusiasm, Buffy felt a tingle at the back of her neck and shrugged it off, associating it to the slight chill that permeated the air at this time of the day. She felt as if someone was observing her, even though it was the most stupid thing to be feeling now that the entire squad was the center of attention whilst they performed their intricate routines. It is perhaps why Buffy didn't realize just how strong her kicks and jumps were compared to that of the other girls, causing Jenna to frown and hiss at her every time her face was turned away from the crowd. Buffy raised her eyebrows, not understanding where this new animosity was coming from. The routine was finally over and the girls headed back to the seats they had reserved at the bottom of the bleachers. A few of the girls went away to take a drink of water or grab a snack. Julie, one of the squad's youngest members suddenly returned and walked straight to Buffy.

'Buffy, there's someone for you under the bleachers.' She whispered, as if it were a secret. Buffy glanced behind her, her gaze following the direction Julie was pointing at. 'It's a very, very hot guy. Is it your boyfriend?' Julie asked, all excited at the prospect of Buffy having an older boyfriend.

Buffy ignored her and walked slowly in the direction Julie had indicated. She had a strange feeling about this and the tingles at the nape of her neck were now blasting at full alarm. She heard him before she actually saw him, because of how dark the underbelly of the bleachers was. In fact, she heard him light a cigarette and saw the embers burning before she even heard him speak.

'Hello, pet.' There was no mistaking that voice or that accent. It was the man from the other night, the bleached blond babe with the killer cheekbones and the leather duster. Buffy stared at him, keeping a good distance between them in case she needed to run. Something about the meeting felt like a setup, unnatural, prepared. On his part, anyways. And how on earth had he found her? Had Amanda blabbed about their school?

'Hi. What do you want?' She simply asked, pressing her back against one of the metal poles that held the bleachers up.

Taking a careful step towards her, he came into the light that filtered through the seats above them and smirked like the cat that ate the canary. And the cream. Or the canary dipped in a serving of cream. In fact he was smirking that assured smile of someone who knows more than you about a specific situation.

'I wanted to see how my darling Elizabeth Anne Summers was doing. You ran off the other night and I didn't even get a chance to give you my number.' He mock-whined, flipping a white piece of plastic between his deft fingers. Her school I.D. That bastard had stolen her school I.D.

'Give it back.' She simply sighed, taking a step towards him. Closing the space between them, Spike tilted her chin up, surprised that she didn't even flinch away from his touch.

'Ask nicely.' He said, still smirking that annoyingly sexy smirk of his. A smirk that made her flush and feel all gooey inside.

'Can I please can my school I.D. back, Mister-too-good-to-tell-my-name?' she said, innocently batting her lashes at him. Man oh man was he hot. She suddenly didn't give a damn that he might have been one of those maniacs that stalked young girls to kidnap them, all she wanted was for him to rip her stupid uniform off and have his wicked way with her. Apparently he felt much the same, if she could judge that solely on the way his eyes smouldered and hooded seductively and his tongue curled behind his front teeth.

'Well of course. Why did you tell me your name was Buffy?' he asked, his hand still lingering under her chin, keeping her gaze locked with his. During this whole time, she hadn't even noticed how he'd pressed her back against the metal pole of the bleacher and was now locking his hips against hers. His free hand roamed towards the top of her cheerleading outfit skirt and he slid her plastic I.D. under the band, his thumb tracing a cool pattern on the heated golden skin of her stomach before moving away.

'I didn't tell you my name was Buffy. My friend did. And it is. I hate Elizabeth. It's too…'

'…formal?' he supplied, enthralled by the sight of her. She looked absolutely edible in her skimpy little outfit, the long-sleeved top baring her flat golden stomach, the skirt baring almost everything there was to bare of her gorgeous legs and her pigtails making her look like any sane (or insane) man's fantasy. Her lips were glossed tonight and her lashes, dark and heavy, curtained her green eyes, casting a shadow on her cheeks.

'Yes. Why are you here?'

'To see you, of course. To return your card, too.' He replied, cocking his head to the side to study her. He could feel her heartbeat increasing because of their proximity. Sliding a hand down her side, he cupped her hip, rubbing patterns on the soft skin inside whilst his other hand moved from her chin to her cheek, pushing away the stray hair that had fallen there.

'I don't even know your name.' She retorted, ever the practical thinker.

'Spike.' He simply said, before dipping his mouth towards her to kiss her. Except she started giggling, loudly and uncontrollably.

'Spiiiike? Spi-iiiike? What kind of a name is that?' She snorted, doubling over in laughter.

'What kind of a name is Buffy? Not to throw stones, love, but we seem to be in the same soddin' boat on this one…' He responded, stepping out of her personal bubble. That almost-kiss had apparently gone unnoticed for her.

'It's a nickname?' She asked, ignoring his stab at her chosen nickname.

'Oi! Of course it is, pet. Do you think my mother was enough of a bint to name her kid Spike?' he scoffed, insulted.

'Well what is your real name then?' she asked, all sugar. It was hard to resist his charm and even though she knew she was being stupid allowing him so close to her when she didn't know what he wanted from her, she couldn't help but want just a little bit more.

'Tis a secret, love.' He murmured, stepping back into her personal space.

'I can't kiss a man who's name I don't know.' She said, smiling brightly up at him. He felt blinded by that smile. She was so pure, so beautiful and so bright, so fucking shiny, it was almost painful to look at her. To think that little bit of a woman was the one thing in the world he had to fear other than the sun almost made him want to laugh. She had no idea what he was or what she was herself. He could tell as much by how uncontrolled her strength had been, how apparent too on the field, doing the same pirouettes as the others but with a lot more precision and about a thrice the strength any of them had. And there she was, taunting him with the prospect of a kiss, _her first kiss_, to get to know his name.

And instead of wanting to kill her like he should considering who they both were, the fact she'd even be so blunt about her desire for him to kiss her made him want to fuck her silly and have her love every second of it.

'William.' He simply supplied, observing her face as she took in the information.

'William.' She repeated, in a hushed whisper. The way she said his birth name made him hard and he brushed his hips against hers once more to make her feel just how affected he was by her. Spike had had a lot of women in the past but never had one fascinated him that much. Drusilla had made a fuss when he'd returned home the other night, but all thoughts of her were washed out of his mind when Buffy moaned softly.

'What is it, love?' he growled softly, his nimble fingers playing with one of her pony tails, tugging at it softly. Buffy looked down at their joined hips and back up at his face and licked her lips slowly, mesmerizing him.

'Why are you really here?' she whispered, their lips three inches apart. He could smell just how aroused she was by the whole situation and he wanted to purr, growl, mewl. He started rubbing his erection against her hip, slowly grinding into her. Buffy's breath hitched in her throat and she closed her eyes at the sensation which coursed through her body violently. So that was desire, she thought, as he continued his ministrations before answering her question.

'I want you.' He simply murmured against the shell of her ear, causing her knees to buckle. He caught her around the waist, his skin cool against her much warmer one. They were now cheek to cheek and, his hips still grinding into hers, her breath hot and hurried against his neck, she sighed softly.

'And you want me too, don't you, love?' he whispered, one hand hitching the hem of her short skirt to expose some more bare skin. She grabbed his hand and stilled it, once again baffled by how fast things went between them. Chemistry, that was what had them moaning and writhing for each other. The heat between them was almost palpable.

'I'm not gonna have sex with you under my school's bleachers when you haven't even kissed me properly yet.' She reasoned, finding her argument very valid.

'What about after I kiss you?' He growled, using one of his knees to knock hers open, effectively drawing his hip bone between her legs to press it roughly against her aching mound. This time, Buffy mewled loudly and he took advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue inside her warm mouth for a kiss. He'd been dying (how ironic) to do that from the moment he'd met her and now he understood why she'd probably actually ruined him for anything that wasn't her.

Kissing her was like kissing the sun, painfully good, mind-shattering. For a first timer, she sure was a quick study, her tongue quickly meeting his and caressing it in the most erotic touch. Her lips were full and tasted of her lip gloss, some fruity concoction that made him wish for an instant he was still human and could actually eat those same fruits off her naked tits and pussy. She tasted of sunshine, of a warm summer day. Her hair became a tight rope around his hand as he manoeuvred her head to his liking, tugging at her glossy mane in just the right way to make her whine and mewl like she had done just a second ago. The moans reverberated in his mouth and he shoved her mercilessly against the metal pole, her legs wrapping around his hips of their own volition to create more friction between their joint hips.

Kissing him was like kissing the night, dark and dangerous. Delicious. The man was gifted, she had no doubt about that, even if he was her first. She found herself wishing he'd also be her last because there was no way in hell another guy could ever kiss her like that, with such talent, with the same mysterious knowledge of just how rough he could be with her to heighten her pleasure even more. One of her hands dug into his bicep, holding him to keep from falling in a boneless pile on the floor whilst her other roughly tugged at the soft silky hair at the nape of his neck.

Spike could feel the bruises she'd leave on his skin from where her unnaturally strong thighs were squeezing his hips and where her hand was digging into his bicep and for some masochistic reason, this turned him on even more. Drusilla and him had experienced with pain in the most wicked ways in bed: Drusilla's tortures were refined and supremely applied to make the pleasure that came after that much more intense. But with this little bit of a woman, it was entirely different. The pain was raw, animalistic, primal. Spinning them around, Spike leaned his back against the pole, allowing Buffy to take control of their impromptu make out session, a make out session that was about to get more heated if she wouldn't stop grinding so provokingly against his groin.

'Don't stop!' she begged in a whisper when his lips finally left hers. But he had no intention of stopping and his mouth left a fiery path on her cheek and all the way down her throat and back up towards her earlobe which he sucked in his mouth, nibbling at it with his teeth.

'Uhhhhh uhhh!' God, this woman would set him on fire, Spike thought. Everything about this attraction felt wrong to him, and that only surged him on. They were sworn enemies, bound to kill or be killed. He'd already murdered quite savagely two of her predecessors and she still had no clue just how dangerous his mouth on her throat could be. But he had no intention of killing her just yet. Not before he'd pop her cherry and have her in all the different positions he could think of. It was only fair really, whilst Drusilla got it on with the ugliest demons, he'd get it on with the Slayer. Slayer and Slayee, the Slayer of Slayers and the hottest Slayer he'd ever laid eyes on. She was bloody exquisite. He could have eaten her whole right there and then.

And for some reason, he tried his best not to morph in front of her, not to show her this darker side of him that craved her blood, that blood that sang to him so fucking strongly it was becoming an issue to breath.

Sliding his hands down her back, Spike slipped his fingers under her skirt, caressing the skin of her butt that was exposed by the hot shorts she wore under the uniform. She moaned. He didn't hear what she said at first and when he repeated it, his brain blanked out for a second.

'Harder.' She muttered, incoherently, her gaze finding his, her hot heavy breath coming out in heady pants against his parted lips. He complied with her desire and ground her groin into his hard on even more strongly, his fingers digging in her buttocks.

'I wanna…' he started to say but she interrupted him with a searing kiss.

'What is this?' she finally panted as he continued dry humping her, no longer caring if he looked like a teenager in need for some consequence-less pleasure.

'Dunno, don't care.' He muttered, taking her bottom lip between his lips. His mouth then trailed towards her jugular, the attraction of her blood becoming almost overwhelming. Spinning them around once more, Spike let her legs slid off his hips and violently grabbed her hair, yanking her head at an angle that bared her throat. She only begged for more.

Suckling at the thin skin that covered her pulsating artery, Spike tried to keep his demon at bay but it was becoming harder and harder. She heard a slight crunching noise before she actually saw the bump and ridges that had replaced his beautiful features. Her eyes widened and she was about to scream when suddenly, he was off her and about ten meters away. And between them, stood an older man Buffy knew worked at her school as an advisor of some sort. He was holding a cross and pointing it at Spike.

'Get away from her, you damned animal!' The man roared in a thick British accent. Spike hissed and was gone in the next second. The man then turned to a blushing Buffy who was startled beyond explanation.

'Who are you?' she finally croaked. 'And what just happened?'

'I am Merrick, your Watcher. That was Spike, William the Bloody, one of the most dangerous vampires to ever roam the Earth. And you, my dear, are the new Vampire Slayer.'


End file.
